In a peaceful forest, the above sky trembled with the thunderous beat of colossal wings.
Each downstroke sent gusts of wind rippling through the canopy of trees and grasses below.
Swoov! Swoov!
Leaves fluttered like panicked birds, and the air was thick with the screech of the giant bird as it soared away, disappearing beyond the horizon.
Its departure left nothing but an uneasy silence hanging over the forest.
However, not long after, a rumbling sound could be heard.
The ground quaked.
A massive, headless plant toppled, crashing into the earth with the weight of a falling mountain.
The stump of its neck, jagged and raw, oozed a sticky green sap that stained the moss beneath.
Its roots sprawled outward like grotesque tentacles, coiling around smaller plants.
These strange companions were grotesque in their own right—each bore bulbous heads covered in sharp, ivory-white teeth.
The air carried the sickly tang of decay, a hint of the plants' grim appetite.
Among the writhing roots, one of the smaller plants began to move. Its tendrils shivered before it wriggled free from the tangled mess.
Its head swiveled, its teeth clicking faintly as it surveyed its surroundings.
However, strangely, the way it moved felt... sentient.
There was a flicker of awareness in its movements. Suddenly, it spoke, its voice rough and low, "Where... am I?"
The words startled even the other strange plants, whose heads snapped toward the speaker. But the little plant ignored them.
Its voice trembled with confusion and fear, "What is this place? What... happened to me?"
The memories came in a flood.
Haeto.
That name—his name—burned in his mind like a brand.
Haeto had been a man once, not this... thing.
He was a loving husband who had dreamed of a simple life with his pregnant wife. But fate had other plans.
He remembered the day they came for her, they accused her family of something the duo didn't know. And they had to repay them with the land his beloved wife loved.
She had died from stress of protecting the land she cherished, a lush expanse brimming with trees and life. Her voice echoed in his mind, like a whisper from the past:
"The rarest treasures are not gold or diamonds, but the trees and plants. Our duty as humans was to protect them. It could also help us stay longer for a while."
The world blurred into a haze of grief and rage.
Her death had shattered his whole view.
Changing it into a grimmer version himself.
He became a specter of vengeance, stalking those who desecrated forests and destroyed life.
He spared no one: corporate moguls, government officials, even villagers who felled trees for firewood.
Blood stained his hands until the day justice—or vengeance—caught up to him. Execution. He remembered the blade's cold bite against his neck, the searing pain as life ebbed away. And then... nothing.
No, not nothing.
The memory of his death gave way to darkness. He remembered the peculiar sensation of fading away, his body dissolving, his senses slipping into oblivion.
Now, he was here.
Wherever here was.
Haeto's instinct to flee was obvious so he tried to move, but something was wrong.
His body seemed like it refused to take a step inch.
Soon, a strange warm sensation was sent to his neck chest, no more like only neck.
And then he glanced downward, expecting the familiar sight of his hands.
Instead, his vision filled with writhing roots and a stalk that pulsed faintly as if alive.
A gasp caught in his throat—or what he thought was his throat.
What should have been his body was... wrong.
His vision was strange, wider, sharper, yet less human.
Soon, the warm sensation on his neck became hotter as he stared at the writhing tangle of roots beneath him, seeing it wriggle, and checked the greenish stalk that extended upward to support a gaping, tooth-filled maw.
His– His– His body was no longer flesh but… but… but…
A living plant?
For real?
A plant?
Haeto exclaimed incredulously.
Ding!
A mechanical chime echoed in his mind, startling Haeto.
His vision blurred, and a translucent screen appeared before him.
Letters formed, crisp and precise:
Welcome to the world of Arcane Demon Soul, little Flytrap.
Host location: Grum Forest.
The words made his sap run cold—or whatever equivalent a plant could feel, forgetting what was the screen in front of him.
Grum Forest.
That name stirred a fragment of memory. Haeto recalled reading about it in a novel—the hobby that he learned from his deceased wife, reading novels, just days before his capture.
It had been a fantastical tale of magic and beasts, a world where humans discovered a power greater than ordinary magic: Arcane Magic.
To wield it, they needed magical beasts—captured, killed, or bonded.
The process was brutal, dependent on the practitioner's method.
Some forged bonds through companionship; others drained their beasts of life and cruelty to harness their power.
Grum Forest, near the place for the story's beginning, had been described as a place teeming with low level danger and small opportunities.
It was the hunting ground of novice magic practitioners seeking weak but rare beasts to fuel their power.
If this was truly that world...
Haeto's hot feeling on his plant-like neck swelled. "No, this isn't real," he murmured, his voice shaking... though it was strange to hear it without lips or a throat.
He clenched—no, tightened—his roots against the ground as if to anchor himself against the wave of fear that he knew would come to him.
However, the screen in front of him shifted with new content.
Objective:
Become the most fearsome creature of all.
The words that's suspended in the air were like a curse too.
Haeto's new awareness that he had just found became intense. "This has to be a nightmare," he muttered, though he doubted it. His memories, the vivid sensations, the surreal details—everything felt too real to dismiss.
He glanced around, his new eyes adjusting to the dense forest.
Thick trees towered overhead, their canopies interwoven to block out most sunlight.
A dim green hue suffused the area, broken only by shafts of light that pierced through cracks in the leaves.
Vines hung like curtains, swaying gently in the breeze.
The air buzzed with life, a symphony of rustling leaves, chirping insects, and distant growls.
It was beautiful, yet terrifying. Haeto had loved forests once, but now, standing—or rather, rooted—in this one, he felt exposed. Vulnerable.
"What... am I supposed to do?" he whispered. His voice was swallowed by the vastness of the forest.
He glanced down again, studying his body. His stalk was thick, covered in a green, waxy substance that glistened faintly.
Sharp teeth lined the edges of his head, which resembled a gaping maw more than anything.
The roots beneath him stretched outward like skeletal fingers, sensitive to every shift in the soil. A shiver ran through him as he realized how alien he had become.
"I'm... a carnivorous Flytrap?" he muttered, the words heavy with disbelief.
For a moment, silence enveloped him, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind.
The reality of his situation began to sink in.
This wasn't a dream.
It wasn't some fleeting illusion.
Somehow, against all logic, he was here. And he wasn't human anymore.
The forest seemed to watch him, its ancient trees looking l
ike silent sentinels.
Somewhere in the distance, a beast roared, the sound deep and guttural.
Haeto's roots quivered involuntarily.
"What now?" he whispered.